Equilibrium
by sweetrampage
Summary: In which the passage of time is chronicled by the meals scattered throughout a day. Endgame spoilers. MU x Stahl.
1. Breakfast

( A/N: H-Hey everybody! Long time reader/first time writer at fanfiction dot net/girl who clocked over 200 hours in FE:A here. My MU's character is named Lumin, so I went ahead and used her in the fic. So that's who she is. But enjoy, I guess! Ahaha... oh man, this is nerve-wracking. )

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**1. Breakfast**

Lumin couldn't stop checking her hands. She circled around under the canvas tarp that had been propped up as a makeshift kitchen, inspecting the breakfast stew and settling into a rhythm: she stirred the cauldron; she checked her hands; she sliced up some bread loaves; she checked her hands again.

_No scales_, she concluded each time.

Her hands remained her own—calloused and peachy, with a six-eyed brand on the back of her right hand—but last night's dream told a different story. She could still hear her own horrified screams from her dream pounding in her ears no matter how much she wanted to block it out. The image of her own palms covered in jagged, umber scales haunted her every step.

_It was only a dream_, she assured herself. Even so, she couldn't shake how utterly real that dream had been. Her russet eyes reflected a listless, not-quite-there stare. Her fingers shook and tingled.

Nope. Still no scales.

The only thing anchoring her to reality was the hearty aroma swirling from the pork stew in front of her. It bubbled; it thickened; it sang in rich, salty tones that charmed her in a way no smooth-talking man could—the tactician was notoriously useless with most chores, but she knew she nailed this one. She had gotten up at the crack of dawn to cook, after all. Two hours after tending to her aromatic creation, it was ready.

She ladled a bowl, sank a chunk of bread inside, and promptly ran into a sleepy-looking knight whom had suddenly wandered under the tarp. "Ahh!" she exclaimed. The scalding hot stew tipped from her fingers and collided against his verdant chestplate before magnificently splattering into a hundred bits of pork and vegetables and soup onto the grass below. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry, Stahl!"

"It's all right," Stahl responded with an easy chuckle. "No worries. This kind of stuff happens all the time." Lumin shot him an awkward grimace. His emerald gaze, still fluttering between awake and asleep, radiated with sympathy.

Something about Stahl's stare yanked at her heartstrings. Hard. Hollow fear washed over her, and her bones couldn't help but chatter. His gaze resonated with an unsettling familiarity. It was as if she had known him in a distant time, maybe in her blank slate of a past... All she knew was that something was _wrong._Something was very, very wrong.

Her shoulders tightened as he reached over and patted her head, ruffling her long, brown hair. "Hey, don't feel bad," Stahl tried again. He grabbed a washcloth from beside the cauldron and wiped the stew's carnage off his armor. "See? I'm okay. Here, let me help you clean this up." His brow lifted in concern when she didn't answer. "...What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing," she replied. His rich baritone yanked her out of her daze. "I'm fine." She bit her lip and snatched the cloth away from the knight. Gods, this man was so infuriatingly helpful. "D-Don't worry about it. I'll take care of this. You just..." She whirled around for a solution, finally settling on the cauldron. Frantic and nimble, she ladled some stew into a new bowl and thrust it into his arms. "Just eat your breakfast, okay? "

The knight sighed, throwing her an inquisitive look. "Are you sure?" he asked. His eyes flickered momentarily towards the stew, lingering a bit, then back towards her. His next words were slightly hesitant. "No, I can't just leave you here to clean by yourself, especially after you woke up so early to make this meal."

Lumin blinked. "Wait, how did you know I woke up early?"

Stahl let out an easy chuckle. Her stomach contorted into a mess of knots. "Well, no one could have made such a great-smelling stew in just a few minutes." He turned towards the steaming bowl in his hand and pointed at each of its components. "The pork looks so tender, you must have worked on preparing it since sunrise. The potatoes must taken forever to peel, and all these vegetables... how long did it take for you to cut them all up by yourself? I mean, you've got carrots and onions and..."

Her lip quivered. For one agonizingly long second, she was left speechless. Behind her, as if to cover the silence, the cauldron's contents tumbled and turned, bubbling with pride. And then, upon realizing that she looked completely silly standing there just _staring_, she reached up and grabbed the knight by his arm and gave him a gentle shove away from the tarp. "J-just go, okay?" Her cheeks burned as fervently as the fire kindling beneath the stew. "I can take care of this."

Stahl looked as if he was about to say something, but as their eyes met, he uttered a quick "thanks," then left with his breakfast.

Once she was alone again, Lumin scanned the ground. The fallen bowl had left trails of pork and potatoes on its way to the grass. Her hand twitched. She wondered how she could have grown so clumsy all of a sudden. Her sleepless stupor must have left her bumbling.

Or maybe it was the dream.

She checked her hands again. Nope, no scales.

Lumin grabbed the washcloth and scooped up the remnants of splattered soup. She made sure to clear up the scene before anyone else showed up to witness it. Once everything was cleaned up, she ladled herself a fresh bowl of stew and grabbed a book on war tactics she picked up back in Southtown. She tucked herself into a corner of the tarp, pressing her knees to her chest as she read and ate and wished her earlier blunder had never happened.

When the green-clad knight peeked in his head into the tent fifteen minutes later, she had dozed off. Her nose was unceremoniously planted against the book, while her empty bowl sat undisturbed beside her. Narrow shoulders spiked up in shock as his footsteps approached. "Milady?" Stahl called out. "That stew was phenomenal." He paused for a bit, scratched his nose and grinned a sheepish grin. Lumin tilted her head in response. "Mind if I get seconds?"

She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. "Go ahead," she said. "Made extras just in case."

"Thanks. You're the best." She buried her face back into her book to conceal the blooming flush in her cheeks.

* * *

_Huff... huff... huff..._.

The pattering of white wings loomed dangerously nearer, nearer. In gasping breaths that clenched at her throat, Lumin swiveled through the woods, setting dead leaves aflight in her wake.

Running for dear life.

Breakfast seemed like a distant memory at this point. As soon as most of the brigade had gotten up, a horde of Risen ambushed the camp. They left tears all over the tents, scattered the Shepherds into disarray, and even knocked over the remains of her stew... but now wasn't the time to get angry over spilled food.

Lumin glanced behind her at the pair of Risen pegasus knights that tailed her. The writers of her war texts would be rolling over in their graves if they knew she allowed herself to be singled out without cover, but the attack had been so sudden that she got corralled away from all her comrades. She took off to the woods, hoping that the trees would hinder the opponents' wings. The Risen were ruthless, though, and they hacked away any obstructing branches with easy flicks of their lances.

Lances that thirsted for her blood.

She shuffled through the pages of her Wind tome. Her eyes darted around the runes as she chanted faster than she ever chanted before. She could feel the air around her kindling into sharper currents.

It took a second for her to realize that the cutting breeze didn't come from her spell, but from the wings of her opponents' mounts.

At the last second, she raised her tome to shield herself. The tome wasn't as lucky, though, as the spearhead ripped a hole into its center. Eyes ablaze and heart racing, Lumin tossed away the now useless tome and reached at the scaffold fixed to her belt.

...Had her hands really been shaking _this_ much? Her fingers curled around her sword's hilt, but panic stopped her from gripping it properly.

_Oh no._

Monstrous wings spread over her as the one of the Risen reeled her arm back and readied herself to strike. The tactician sprang to the side as her opponent brought her lance downward. A sharp pain seared her left side. She stumbled. Her hand wandered to the pain and touched something wet. Wet and red. Blood. Oh gods, she was bleeding. Her opponent's mount swooped over her as she scrambled backward to regain her composure. Her leg caught in the underbrush, flinging her off balance, sending her crashing against the foliage.

She was cornered.

"H-Help..." she gasped out. She reached for her blade with feeble fingers, loathing the words that escaped her lips, loathing her carelessness. Widened, russet eyes wouldn't break focus from the pegasus knight, her soon-to-be killer. "Oh, Gods, somebody..."

Amidst the throbbing, dizzying pain, she half-expected a knight in shining armor to burst from the woods and rescue her. That's what always happened in the storybooks, right? Someone so desperately familiar that she couldn't conjure his image... her eyes latched onto the lush, green foliage around her, as if to yank a figure from within it.

But nobody came.

Instead, the other Risen swerved to her side and drove her lance into the tactician's right shoulder. She shrieked a blood-curdling shriek. The world pulsed and swirled around her. The pegasus knight withdrew her lance, and Lumin scrambled to hold her wound shut. Her vision flickered into flashes of red. Suddenly, images of what looked like crimson veins trickled into her eyesight. Her head bowed downward, giving her a glimpse of her ashen, blood-soaked hands and...

"Scales," she whispered.

They covered her hands, gleaming and umber. Breaths left her lips in rapid pulses. She wasn't sure if the scales were real or just an illusion her mind conjured in her wretched state. Suddenly, the pain dissipated from her wounds. She hoisted herself back onto her feet, stumbling, then stable. Scaled hands found their way to her blade, and she lunged towards the pair of Risen with strength she never imagined she could attain, dancing a half-aware sword dance like she was dreaming.

The undead collapsed before her before she could figure out what was going on. The inhuman lights in their eyes dimmed into nothingness. Sheathing her blade, Lumin staggered back towards the entrance of the forest, but she only managed to take a few steps before she lost her footing and planted head-first against a mess of dried leaves. The scales faded from her palms. Her wounds once again began to pound wildly, screaming to be treated. She tried to lift herself back up, but her body wouldn't respond. Instead, she gazed hopelessly forward, listening to the crisp trees shaking in the wind, waiting for death to claim her.

..._Clip clop, clip clop_.

The harmonious trot of horse hooves cut through the rustling trees. What if it was another Risen coming to finish the job? What a morbid way to die—letting an opponent march up to her and run a weapon through her heart without being able to lift a finger to retaliate... and then she heard it—a gasp; breathing. Breathing! The rider was alive. Not a Risen, but one of them. Her eyes darted towards her palms to make sure the scales were gone. "Milady!" exclaimed a panicked baritone. Her lips curled into a weak smile. It was Stahl's voice.

She was safe.

His arm snaked around her back, propping her up. Lumin winced. She wished she could just wipe that pale, worried look off his face. The knight pressed her body against his armor; she felt warmth rushing through her body, and it wasn't just from that searing hot pain that tormented her shoulder and her side. "It's going to be okay," he said. "The Risen are all gone... let's get you back to camp so Lissa can patch you up." His other hand slid under her knees, and she felt herself lifted into his strong, stable arms. "Thank goodness... we've been looking everywhere for you."

Lumin bit her lip. Patches of blood smeared against his verdant armor. Gods, she really wasn't winning any favors with him today—she had spilled stew on him at breakfast, and now her own blood had found its way onto him as well.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. The words shook in mangled agony as they escaped her lips. "I promise, I'm more than just these blunders."

"It's all right," Stahl replied. She didn't deserve that warm smile of his, not after all her follies. "Just hang on... you can't die on me yet." He hoisted her up onto his horse, then nestled himself onto the saddle behind her. He rested an arm around her waist, propping her securely against his armor, while his other hand took the reins.

The world began to swirl around her again.

"If you're making promises, though," the knight added after a little pause. "Promise me instead that you won't run off into danger by yourself."

"...Sorry."

"Otherwise, I'll never be able to take my eyes off of you."

Lumin's face lit up, rosy and sizzling and utterly embarrassed. She wanted to protest, to say that she didn't need anyone looming over her, but in her condition, she figured she had no right. "Okay," she responded, forcing a sheepish smile onto her lips. "I promise." She looked him in the eye to show that she was serious. As her wincing gaze met his worried stare, she felt not the hollow fear from earlier, but warm and secure. Even though she was still bleeding to death, she figured she would be okay as long as he was there_._ "Thanks for finding me."

"Thanks for breakfast," he responded. He reached his hand over the back of her head, giving her hair a playful ruffle.

She closed her eyes with a smile, shutting out the dizzying world around her until nothing was left but to the pattering of the horse's hooves and the rhythmic breaths of the man holding her.

And that disappeared too, as she fell limp in his arms.


	2. Lunchtime in Prison

( A/N: Ahaha... this chapter took me way too long to write. Um... I hope it's okay and that it's at least somewhat worth the wait. I'm so tired, but I was hellbent on getting this up before I went to sleep, so here we are! Chapter two!

Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews/follows/favorites! You guys make me feel so loved! This is definitely not going to be a one shot, so please stay tuned for the rest! )

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**2. Lunchtime in Prison**

The heavy prison door swung shut. The lock clicked. They were trapped.

Lumin slammed her fists against the door, gnashing her teeth together in frustration and loathing herself for her utter carelessness. The door didn't budge—her small hands and soft, leather gloves only managed to make a meager _thump_ against the thick wood.

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

She would never get used to the stiff feel of her new gloves. Addled by fear since that near-death skirmish two weeks back, she had worn them every time she left her tent. She figured there was nothing more nightmarish than the Shepherds discovering that beneath her skin slept scales as black as midnight. They would throw her out without question if they knew there was something dangerous, something monstrous hidden inside her. Even with the gloves, though, she continued to dream about scales growing on her skin, figuring that it was only a matter of time before everyone found out.

...Before the sweet cavalier boy, who stopped by her tent every day as she pried herself from the verge of death, whose presence somehow managed to breathe life into her battered, wounded body, would become aware of the scales. The dreams had spoken about him too. _It would be so easy to kill,_ a voice had whispered to her last night. It was strikingly familiar, a tone that reminded her a bit of poisoned honey—sweet and smooth, but uninhibited. Deadly. _The boy by your side wouldn't resist if you just reached up and snapped his neck._

"Are you hurt, Lumin?" Stahl asked, his voice prying the tactician away from the dreams that haunted her mind. They had gotten to know each other over the last couple of weeks, but the sound of her name leaving his tongue remained foreign... it always left her constricted. Air-locked.

Completely breathless.

The light from the full moon chiseled a worried look in his eyes. He wore a simple, black tunic and white trousers instead of his usual armor today, which showed the defined outlines of his lean, battle-toughened figure... and showed how utterly unprepared they were for a fight when the Grimleal ambushed them. The only equipment they brought along were a couple of swords, which were taken away from them before they were locked up in the fortress. The guard had told them that they would escort them to King Gangrel in Plegia Castle at dawn, so there wasn't much of a window for escape. One night, that was all.

"I'm fine," said Lumin. After recognizing that the door was indeed unbudgeable, she huddled against the wall beside her companion. She pressed her knees against her chest and sighed. "You know, when we decided to go gift shopping, getting thrown in an enemy prison doesn't really seem like the obvious outcome."

"Not really."

"Gods, this is probably the worst birthday present." She stuffed her head against her knees with a bitter grimace. "'Happy birthday, Chrom. Please break us out of prison.'"

"I guess." Stahl let out a melodic chuckle. "And they took that dragonfly root concoction we made for him too." He tilted his head. Lumin tensed her shoulders in response; she could just feel those green eyes delving curiously into her soul even without looking up. She wouldn't dare look him in the eye, not without being reminded of scale-lined hands grasping his neck. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," came the reply.

"It's not nothing." A pause passed between them. "Hey," the knight tried again. "Don't beat yourself up about this. You couldn't have possibly known that this would happen."

"That's the thing," said Lumin. Her lip quivered. " I should have known. Walking into a town in enemy territory with just some flimsy swords and no cover is just asking for trouble."

"It's not your fault." He gave her hair a gentle ruffle. She flinched at the contact and huddled deeper into her ball-like stance.

"Of course it's my fault. I'm the army tactician. I'm supposed to know better than this. I could have asked more people to come along, but I just thought..." She trailed off.

_I just thought it would be nice to spend time with you._

"It's all right," said Stahl. His hand wandered to her shoulder. She felt herself being pulled leftward, closer and closer to the knight until her arm brushed against his side. She let out a little squeak. "Hey, look at me."

She didn't move.

"Look at me, Lumin." Her eyes widened. Lumin looked up, thankful that the darkness of the cell hid the rosy glow of her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered over to the knight, savoring his sympathetic smile for one fleeting moment before looking away.

"We're going to be okay," he assured her. She glanced at him, glanced at the subtle lines of worry on his brow. "Everything will work out just fine."

"Y-Yeah."

_Lying, _Lumin figured, _really isn't your strong point._ The tactician bit her lip and turned away. And yet, Stahl felt the need to be strong for her... for a girl so rife with blunder that she needed reassurance. For a girl in umber scales whom had nightmares of snapping his neck.

So she had to be strong for him too. She had to do something, _anything,_ to break them out of the cell.

Silence encompassed the cold, jagged walls as she jotted the surroundings down into her mind. The third floor cell, the woods outside, their camp due north, about three miles away. If they could break free while the guards were escorting them to the palace... but how would they shake off the guards in the first place? Maybe lighting a fire underneath their feet—she didn't have a tome with her, but even a little fire she remembered from the incantation should be enough to set the ranks into confusion. Fire would be the most jarring of the elements, since it could spread and bring more and more people to its attention...

_Oh, gods, he's so close._

_No, Lumin, focus._

"We'll escape in the morning," Lumin said as she glanced back at Stahl, shifting herself bashfully away from him. "As soon as they take us out of the palace. I'll start a fire."

"Okay," he responded half-heartedly, his mind elsewhere. His eyelids fluttered sleepily over his far-gazing eyes, as if he were deep in thought. The tactician tilted her head in confusion. "You know, if only one of us makes it out of here, it has to be you. You're the army strategist; you're more important than any soldier." Lumin's brow furrowed, and her lips parted in protest.

_But why?_ A sinking feeling lodged inside her chest. His words rang far too true in her mind—the tactician called all the shots in an army, sometimes singlehandedly deciding the difference between victory and defeat, while a soldier merely followed orders... but no victory would be true if anyone died on her.

"I can't promise," Stahl continued, "that I'll be strong enough to protect you, but I'll do my best to make sure you get out of here alive, with or without me."

Lumin shook her head. "Don't say things like that," she said. "If you die, then where does that leave me? Where does that leave the strategist who's responsible for your life?"

"It's not your responsibility entirely. If I make a mistake, or if I'm not strong enough, it's on me."

"But do you really want me to live every waking moment of my life wondering what I could have done to keep you alive?" Her lips pursed in a pout. "That's a bit selfish if you ask me."

"A knight would gladly die in service to his country," said Stahl. Lumin's brow tensed. What did this man have to gain for being so chivalrous? So recklessly noble? She admired him for that, at least, though she would never admit it. The tactician shifted her eyes back over to her companion. Hesitation lurked in his gaze as he stared aimlessly across the room.

She wasn't the only one here who refused to admit something.

Lumin sighed. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"Sorry." Stahl gave a light chuckle.

The chords of his baritone voice plucked and pulled at Lumin's heart, forcing her mind to wander, to yearn. The tactician leaned her head back against her knees, focusing her eyes on everything but the knight beside her. Silence eclipsed the cell and uncertainty seeped into the tactician's mind. Uncertainty, and the terrifying thought of the man beside her, sprawled against the ground, his arms cold as ice.

The voice in her dream surfaced in her mind. _The boy by your side wouldn't resist if you just reached up and snapped his neck._

She missed the warmth of his arm around her already.

* * *

Seconds of silence passed, then turned to minutes and hours. It was hard to tell how much time had passed, especially after the moon rose past their view of the prison window. Lumin figured she should get some sleep, but she didn't dare risk dreaming those awful dreams again. Beside her, perpetually messy tufts of hair fell like a veil over Stahl's closed eyes. His breath deepened in a rhythmic slumber. He had propped himself against her, burying his cheek against her hair, dangerously close.

Russet eyes took ritual peeks towards his sleeping face before looking away again.

Footsteps approached in rhythmic taps, cutting through the silence and jolting the knight awake. The door clicked and swung open, and the flickering torches of the corridor seeped into the cell, silhouetting a small figure in a black hood. Lumin squinted at the figure, hoping an ally would be hiding beneath the hood, but the cloth obscured its wearer completely. From what she could see—a female about her height, with a pale chin and strands of long, dark hair tucked behind the hood—no allies came to mind. Without a word, the stranger laid a folded fleece blanket in front of her and disappeared back into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

"That was awfully nice," said Stahl. "...and strange. Really strange."

"Yeah." Lumin pulled the blanket closer. She furrowed her brow in suspicion, wondering what kind of jail guard would go into their cell in the middle of the night just to give them a blanket.

"Did you want the blanket? I can manage without it."

She let out a bitter chuckle. "Always the gentleman, aren't you?"

"N-No, I didn't mean it like that," said Stahl. He cleared his throat while Lumin's attention wandered back to the blanket. She began unraveling the layers of fleece. "They're taking us to Plegia Castle tomorrow, huh?" he mused. She nodded. As the blanket unfolded, she noticed a slight bump inside. Glass? "I guess we'll be there by noon. Wonder what lunchtime in prison is going to be like."

"Don't get your hopes up," said Lumin. "I'm guessing we'll get a bit of gruel and maybe some bread if we're lucky." Her eyes widened as a little flask rolled out of the unfolded blanket. She squinted through the darkness and snatched it up.

It was the dragonfly root concoction, still in its glass vial. The crimson potion glimmered flawlessly, as if they had never had it taken away from them. If they were careful on their way out, they could still give Chrom his birthday present.

Stahl sighed. "I don't think I'll last a day there."

"Probably not." A grin formed on the tactician's face. "But don't worry. I don't think we'll be here that long." She waved the flask in front of him.

"Is that...?"

"The concoction we made? Yeah," she replied. "Hang on..." The tactician scrambled to her feet and stepped soundlessly towards the door. She gripped the iron knob and turned it, half-expecting it to clench and hold them inside.

But it opened. A narrow slit of orange light seeped through the darkened cell. Lumin peered out the little crack, then back at Stahl, whom had gotten up to join her. "Do you think this could be a trap? I don't think they'll just let us out of here so easily."

"I don't think so..." Lumin flinched as he leaned over her to look out the crack in the door. His palm reached over to the wall beside her, almost as if to capture her in his warmth. She could feel his gentle breaths over her head, his closeness throwing her off her train of thought, forcing her to stumble over her words. "I, um... I don't think there's any reason for a trap. I-I mean, they already got us in the cell. All they need to do is keep us here 'til morning."

"True," said Stahl. "Here, stay close to me, okay?"

Lumin nodded as he slipped by her and out the door. She followed suit, clutching the dragonfly root flask in shaking fingers. The crackling torches illuminated an empty corridor. _Almost too empty,_ the tactician thought. Even though it was the middle of the night, she figured at least a few guards would be patrolling the halls. The faint smell of metal peppered the air. Blood. A chill trickled down her spine.

They turned a corner. Russet eyes widened in shock. The polished floor led to a trio of armored men, limp and mangled in pools of blood. Lumin clenched her fists. Her eyes darted frantically from body to body—they had each been sliced with a single, clean cut of a blade. Someone knew what they were doing. From the looks of the nearly identical cuts on the bodies, she figured they were killed by the same person.

The small-framed helper in the black robe came to mind.

"What happened here?" Stahl asked.

"I-I don't know... wait." She stopped in her tracks. The stench of metallic blood was overtaken by a thicker scent. Smoke. As they reached the winding stairway, heavy smoke drifted in from the floor above. The crackling of menacing fire reached her ears. "We need to get out of here, _now_. The floor above is on fire."

_Fire._ Her own plan from earlier came to this was no time to dwell on coincidences.

They ran, keeping their eyes peeled through the billowing smoke for any adversaries. None approached—there was no one but the corpses that speckled their path. As the pair made their way down the winding corridors and steps of the fortress, all that lingered in the tactician's mind was getting them both out alive before they got caught in the fire.

The air thickened rapidly. Glistening ashes shot out at the pair. _Don't look back. Just go._ Finally, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the haze wandered through the gargantuan double doors of the north entrance and out into the wide-open night, almost as if it was guiding them towards freedom.

But something stirred within the smoke as they dashed through the opened doors. Someone alive.

"You," Lumin called out. The hooded woman from before loomed over a heap of cloth—no, that was a dead body. _Another_ dead body. Upon hearing the tactician's call, she retracted her blade from the corpse's body, glistening and dripping in noxious, metallic blood. Lumin clutched the vial even tighter as russet eyes squinted through the smoke.

Without a word, the stranger pointed towards the northern path.

"Who the hell are you?" Lumin tried again. "And what do you want with us?"

"Now's not really the time to be asking questions..." Stahl cut in. His teeth gnashed together with a hurried tension. He pressed a hand on Lumin's shoulder, attempting to guide her down the path. She didn't budge."Come on, we can't stay here."

"I know, but..."

"Take care," the figure muttered. Her voice hit a certain series of poisoned-honey chords that seemed far too familiar.

"W-Who are you?" said Lumin. She glared at the shadowy figure. Black robes billowed in the rippling wind. The stranger lifted her chin and turned to face the pair, a menacing, almost feral grin appearing on her ruby red lips.

"I'm sure you'll look beautiful in those lovely scales."

Russet eyes widened in a wild stare. She wanted, no, she _needed_ to pull that hood off the stranger, but fear held her back. Fear of the unknown, fear that this person knew something about her that she never wanted to find out... and in that moment of hesitation, she felt herself being pulled away from the fortress by warm, protective arms. As they neared their army's camp, the woman's words resonated so distinctly in Lumin's head. She knew exactly why—

It was her own voice.


End file.
